Three, Two, One
by SunilaMoon
Summary: He had never wanted to feel those venomous lips on his skin, nor the nauseating choke of the collar around his neck. Three punches away from a broken jaw. Two kicks away from a concussion... CassandraxJizabel, non-con, R&R please.


"I'd have thought by now you'd know what happens when you cross me."

A sickening thwack echoed through the room as the young _womans_ head was bashed against the wall... Cassandra's grip on _her_ hair tightening as he pulled her back, pausing as if to crush her against it again, but instead he let go, letting her fall to a crumpled pile on the floor... the crimson liquid dripping from her hair line. She coughed, her hand clawing helplessly at the collar that was constricting her, but to no avail.

Three punches away from a broken jaw.

Two kicks away from a concussion.

One molestation away from insanity.

A smile curled up _her_ bloodied lips. _What sanity have I to begin with?_

Cassandra kneeled, lifting up the bruised porcelain dolls face to his.

"Your attempts at escaping me have grown dull... I wonder, why is it you insist on running, when you were so content in _that mans_ hands.... My dear Jizabel."

The 'woman' glared daggers at him, those cold amethyst eyes more than making up for the words that the collar kept him from saying. Cassandra stood, pulling the younger man off the floor with him, his hand still tight at the former doctors jawline. Former. Everything was former. Former doctor. Former killer. Former Death. Former man, as far as his pride was concerned... And, of course, as far as the corset constricting his body reminded him.

"I didn't want to damage that pretty little face of yours, but you hardly left me any choice."

_You just love it when I can't talk back._

"If you behave, perhaps I'll treat you tomorrow evening? We'll attend the opera, have dinner..."

_Shut up._

"Righ now I'll take you back up stairs, take care of these nasty cuts," he brushed his fingers over the younger mans lips, pressing slightly, "...We'll pretend this never happened."

_I hate you. I'll kill you._

Cassandra withdrew his hand, gasping in pain, but regaining his composure in time to see Jizabel lick the blood from his teeth. "You.... bit me... You little whore!"

Another crunch broke through the cold, damp air, followed by another, until he finally tossed him to the floor, ending this bout with a sharp kick to the younger mans body. Jizabel gasped, dragging himself an inch or so away from that twisted waste of flesh before once more pulling at the collar on his neck, the constriction of both it and the corset having ill effects when combined with his recent injuries. Cassandra kneeled to the floor beside him, this time his hand reaching for Jizabels pale wrist, his other for one of the bloodied shackles hanging from the wall.

The younger man shuddered, as he felt the cold devices lock around both his wrists, his last chance of escaping this flying farther away from him as each second ticked by. Just what fate was awaiting him he was unsure, nor was it something he particularly wanted to contemplate, given Cassandra's warped perspective on the way his captive thought.

His rewards were bad. His punishments were bad. Even the times where he simply left him alone for once were unnerving. At the moment, he could be sure of at least one thing:

Lord Gladstone did plan to use his personal torture chamber to its full extent tonight.

Not even pain was a safe refuge for him anymore, for this man could twist even that. How was it possible to corrupt something that was already so warped?

He could only blame the masochistic tendencies Cassandra claimed he had.... When sex and pain were melted together in his mind, no shelter remained. What was once a numbing distraction and an escape from his own mind was poisoned with filth. It was nothing more then a dirty act that made him want to vomit. And he had, at least several times in the past week alone.

A violent action stirred him from his thoughts as the older man tore off the remainder of his clothing, save for the corset, which was rarely removed, leaving shreds of the expensive gown on the chamber floor.

_Don't give him that pathetic and helpless expression, You knew full well what was coming._

Even had he been able to speak the words were lost in a wave of nausea, and instead he looked away, the candlelight of the dim chamber, as Cassandra apparently didn't bother with electricity in a dungeon, illuminating the bruises forming on his cheek. He swallowed, his mouth suddenly much dryer as he felt those cold hands make their way down his body... And just as they were wandering too low for comfort he raised them again, this time waltzing grimly around the doctors neck before unbinding the collar. On impulse he drew in a sharp breath, before a few harsh coughs escaped his throat, the air in the room feeling course yet welcoming at the same time. Cassandra's eyes narrowed, and he traced his hand over Jizabels lip, this time careful around his teeth and cautious towards the younger mans every movement.... A behavior that in turn put Jizabel on alert, knowing the slightest movement would likely send Gladstone into a rage, and at this point he was unsure how much more he could physically take... Nor did he want Cassandra in a bad mood when he-

Jizabels eyes darted to the door, calculating the level of difficulty in slipping the shackles, bludgeoning this perverted monster with the closest blunt object, and getting out before he came to...

-when he finally recalled the reason he'd stripped the beaten creature in his possession. The older mans eyes narrowed, and he glanced to the door himself, guessing almost exactly what the doctor was thinking. He withdrew his hand finally, standing and taking a step back to admire his prey. A satisfied smirk spread up his face, and he crossed his arms in that usual smug fashion that Jizabel had grown all too tired of seeing.

"You know, I wouldn't make you wear that thing if you'd just behave." His tone had a sickeningly sweet cut to it, as if his statement was no different then a parent explaining to their child why what they did was wrong. _Parent._ He scowled, ignoring Cassandra's comment entirely. It would be a ridiculous lie to pretend that he didn't want his father right now... Even if Alexis was the one who got him in this mess to begin with. Infact, he wanted him desperately.

"Well? Aren't you going to say anything? You can speak now afterall... Why not take advantage of this?" Jizabels eyes drifted up from the shackles around his wrists to Cassandra, immediately regretting it, as that bastard was still wearing that calm and demeaning smile.

Yes. It would be an extravagant lie to say he wasn't wishing his father would just waltz in and save him.

"Fine," his smile dropped, and he crossed to the wall left of him, gripping the controls of a pulley system that Jizabel had previously forgotten was there. ..._Then that means?!_

His eyes widened, and darted to the chains on the shackles which, as he'd thought, went directly up the wall behind him to a pulley at the top. With little more then a brief, unforgiving nod of the head, Cassandra's hand was on the lever, and Jizabel wasted no time scampering to his feet so as not to be dragged up by force. A reaction that wreaked havoc on his beaten frame, his knees shaky as he did his best to support himself. But apparently this wasn't enough, as the older mans lip turned up in a grin and he continued turning the lever, the younger man struggling to keep his feet on the ground and relieve the stress in his arms and shoulders... Aswell as ignore the blood dripping to the floor from both the shackles, and the old cuts on his back that had been torn open as they scraped against the wall. After several more seconds passed he finally stopped struggling, deciding that such effort was below his pride aswell as a useless waste of his strength.

Cassandra nearly chuckled, apparently amused as he observed the younger man balancing on his toes in an attempt to keep himself from just hanging.

With little warning his hand struck Jizabels face, though earning no response. Already the doctors eyes seemed to have grown dull, he'd grown accustom to this behavior. There was blind rage in those first minutes. This faded off to desperation, and finally settled into nothingness. A different pattern then he'd witnessed when the Cardmaster beat him, during which time Jizabels blank expression was always present from start to finish. He felt somewhat proud that he was able to rouse such emotions in the younger ones heart. Afterall, at least he was showing _something_ with that blind hatred. He loved chiseling that mask off bit by bit... So of course, the rage alone was no longer satisfying, he wanted more. His expression sowered, and he struck the doctor again, somehow furious that the mask was on once more, and didn't seem to be coming off... A behavior that would be most unamusing given his plans for the evening... It wasn't as if five more hours of torture could go on with out a single cry, now was it?

"Look at me, damn it!" He literally spat his words in Jizabels face, as he jerked the mans head up, his hand entangled in silver threads. "...Are you even listening?!"

"...No." Cassandra's eyes widening somewhat, obviously not expecting to get an actual response to his question. He also found himself doing a retake as to whether or not it was Jizabel who really spoke it, for Deaths voice was now far more ragged then it used to be. He scoffed, pulling his hand out of the doctors hair, and with it the few pins and ties that had been holding it in an up-do. It hardly mattered, it wasn't as if it looked pretty any more. With a slick motion he drew a knife from his pocket, some level of alertness returning to Jizabels eyes as he raised it, as if some small hope had ignited, some small hope that he would simply slit his throat and put an end to it. But it was gone as soon as it came, for Cassandra merely slipped it behind the younger mans back, tearing downward to cut the ties on the corset open. With a few more rough slices he ripped the mangled thing off and discarded it on the floor to join the tattered ball gown. Jizabel shuddered as Cassandra leaned in and licked across his collar bone, his right hand tracing down his rib cage. The younger mans breath hitched as Cassandra stopped, his fingers resting on a particularly bruised area. With little consideration he pressed abit harder, Jizabel wincing under his touch.

"Oh dear..." he remarked, with an almost sincere tone, or as sincere as one would be examining a broken antique or family heirloom, "It looks like it may actually be fractured..." He ran his thumb abit harder across the rib, this time receiving a short cry from the younger man, who seemed to be doing all he could not to pull away. Infact, the way the doctor was now biting his lower lip, his eyes screwed shut, was exiting Delilahs high priest... The pain always exited him.

"...Did I do this?" He questioned, faking a concerned expression, "...We'll have to have that taken care of... Poor thing." He ran his hand lightly over his preys cheek, for a moment almost doting over him.

"....But I think that can wait awhile, don't you?"

A startled cry rang through the chamber as Cassandra slammed Jizabel against the wall, leaving no space between them as he picked up where he's left off earlier, planting a rough kiss on his collar bone. He smiled to himself, moving lower to take a quick bite at one of his nipples, feeling proud as he felt the younger man quiver against him. Proud that once more the mask was falling off, and nothing short of sheer terror was left. This became even more evident when the doctors eyes widened, having felt Cassandra grind against him.

...One molestation away from insanity?

Jizabel swallowed, his attention now fully focused on what was currently pressing against his thigh... Focused on how painfully obvious the bulge in the older mans pants had become. Cassandra nipped at his neck, before biting down even harder, determined to get another arousing scream from the doctors throat. Though it was clear as day that this twisted form of foreplay was losing its spice, and the sick aristocrat longed for something more. He licked his lips, brushing his hand down Jizabels thigh before moving it to the band of his own trousers, hastily unbuttoning them before lifting Jizabels legs up. He struggled briefly, eventually finding it best to just give in and let Cassandra have his way. He winced, as the older man pinned him to the wall once more, this time lining himself up and preparing to take the younger man without a moments hesitation.

"...Just give me a reason Jizabel." He grinned, locking lips with the younger man and relishing the taste of blood they left in his mouth. "Just tell me why I shouldn't do this and I'll stop.... Or at least, I'll let us continue in a more comfortable environment..." He paused on these words, moving one of his hands to stroke the other mans member, receiving something akin to both a sob and a moan in response. He smirked, continuing to touch him in this matter. "Just give me a reason... Give me one reason and we'll go upstairs and continue this in my own quarters.... I'll even be gentle." The hand stroking him moved, this time moving around to trace haphazardly over his entrance. He continued this nerve wracking motion, before finally withdrawing and bringing the hand back to rest on Jizabels hip, holding him still.

"So be it, then."

Jizabel gasped, doing his best to fight back tears as Cassandra thrust into him without even the slightest preparation, slowly at first, but a little faster, and deeper, each time... Though he knew that the slow start was for Cassandra's own comfort, and control, not his. He'd grown used to the rough, agonizing treatment in the past week. "Well... I suppose.... It makes sense. Why would you... want a gentler treatment... to begin with..." he licked his lip, leaning in near Jizabels ear, "We both know you like it rough..."

With no further warning he rammed into the younger man even harder, this time getting a pained whimper in return, and after several more deep thrusts he earned the screams he'd been waiting for, his victim agonized by both the violation... Aswell as the ache of Cassandra's body pressing harder against his broken rib each and every time. The older man cut off his fifth cry with a deep kiss, pressing his tongue into the younger ones mouth with a brute force. Half a minute passed by before he came up for air, a sound between a grunt and moan escaping his lips as he parted with Jizabels. He drew back, resting his head on Jizabels shoulder and taking the occasion lick at his ear lobe.

Jizabel merely stared over his shoulder, his eyes in a glassy fix on the door. He felt sick. That alone was an understatement. He felt truly ill, pain ripping through his flesh, muscles tearing, bones cracking, a dull ache in his head, bile in his mouth... An overwhelming urge to throw up, but a full awareness that if he did it would just get worse.

Cassandra was wearing a new suit afterall.

His head was pounding. He couldn't breath, couldn't think... If this were to go on much longer he doubted that his vision would last. He felt everything, every last sensation from the wall grinding against the scars on his back, to the shackles cutting deeper into his wrists... to every subtle movement Cassandra made, every change of pace, every angle, every hitch in his breath which he prayed would signal the end of this. At this point, he wasn't even sure what or whom he was praying _to_.

He swallowed back another wave of nausea, awkwardly letting his head rest on Cassandra's shoulder as a sort of signal of defeat. Another minute. Two. Three. He closed his eyes as he felt something vile shoot through him, and Cassandra begin to slow down. Another second. Two. Three.

Cassandra muttered something, though his speech was too close to a slurred moan to be understood, and he finally pulled out, ignoring the thin stream of blood now dripping down the back of Jizabels thigh.

The younger man inhaled sharply, breathing the first breath in ages, savoring the air no matter how thick it was, no matter was smells lingered in it. His eyes wandered drowsily over the floor, paying vague attention to Cassandra, who he was sure was talking. It didn't matter. He would probably repeat whatever rubbish he was speaking.

The older man straightened his collar, before finally crossing over to the levers for the pulley system, and with a few turns Jizabel found himself crumpled on the ground once more, the idea of even trying to stand much too much for him. Instead, he curled up closer to the wall, the strain off his shoulders and arms all too comfortable. Comfort, It was rather pathetic what that word had come to mean. Comfort was that short time inbetween agony... Vaguely, he could recollect the days when comfort meant lying under a tree in the summer, curled up next to Snark... Enjoying the suns rays, and enjoying being let outside given his illness. Comfort...

He was finally able to close his eyes as Cassandra left the chamber, more then likely taking a break to enjoy some luxury or another before coming back down and pulling the scavengers daughter off the wall... There was also the poire d'angoisse he had recently acquired, god only knew he was itching to try that one out. It would end after a few more hours, then he would awaken the next morning in a clean bed upstairs with some shady doctor, who'd keep quite for whatever money Gladstone offered him, doting over his injuries. Perhaps a maid or two catering to his whims...

He signed, resting his head against the cool floor. Sleep was fine for now. If sleep brought only nightmares, at least they would be familiar ones, devoid of that mans cold touch. And, if they were not old nightmares, he could take time to recover in the refuge of his own fantasies.

Three hours to fix every wrong, and take back this endless nightmare.

Two minutes to be scooped up from the chamber floor, to have the shackles undone, by warm arms.

One second to say "I love you, Jizabel."

* * *

**This is a wonderful story inwhich Cassandra is the nicest man on earth, and Jizabel spends 90% of his time skipping through feilds of flowers and frolicking with friendly woodland creatures that sing and help him with house work. Oh, and Alexis is worlds #1 Dad in this happy land....**

**What? You didn't get those happy vibes from this fic? You didn't find that happy? What are- Oh wait, I'm talking about the wrong fic. Oh, sorry folks. Anywho, I felt really weird not mentioning Cassian once in this whole story. D;**

**Anyway, review if you read. I'd really appreciate it. Yessir.**


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